


Sepanjang Jalan Kenangan

by SweetDeceiver



Category: A Matter of Innocence (1967), Pretty Polly (1967)
Genre: F/M, Hayley Mills, Shashi Kapoor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 04:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetDeceiver/pseuds/SweetDeceiver
Summary: East is east and west is west, and sometimes the twain will meet again years after they parted and reconsider the whole situation.A tribute to an underrated movie and the late Shashi Kapoor.





	Sepanjang Jalan Kenangan

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this just to indulge myself last year. Then Shashi died and I knew this was the chance to offer my bit of tribute, so here it is, all polished. It’s meagre enough as an expression of what he means to me, but at least it’s something.
> 
> A thank you to my friend (you know who you are) for helping me out finishing this.

"Polly Barlow: a new kind of boss" the cover copy stated in small white letters. Polly dared to stop looking at the copy and start looking at the cover picture, which was of her in pleated gold lamé, her short hair all brushed to one side and wearing the sort of make-up a vampire might have worn in the 1950s. "Gosh." she said. "I didn’t think it would end up like that."

"I like it." Alice, her secretary, said, peeping over her arm, although she was the one who'd bought the magazine, and therefore had had ample time to study it already. But the whole idea of Polly being on the cover seemed to entertain her endlessly. “Interview’s not much cop, but that’s what they’re all like in there, I’m afraid.”

"I think it was a good idea to do it, silly questions notwithstanding." Polly furrowed her brow. "That dress really was awful though. We'd never have produced it." 

"Shame they didn’t let you use one of ours. Well, everyone likes it, you should be proud of it." Alice replied. "I'll get you some wine." She was off before Polly could stop to tell her she didn't want any wine yet; she didn't want to take the risk of getting drunk before the rest of the company arrived.

"Oh dear." she muttered, looking around for anything that needed arranging. She knew she didn't need to, really, because that was what she paid other people for. But she couldn't stop herself from watching as Geoff- her head designer- primped and fussed with the three outfits displayed on the silver mannequins in the middle of the dining room; the top sellers of the season, artfully combined by Polly and Geoff into coherent combinations. They really looked great, and she felt a sense of pride as she passed. 

She sighed. She knew she -or rather, her company- was the rising star in mid range fashion, as the women's mag cover proved, but it was hard to take a moment and try to fully realise it. Instead it was easier to already move ahead into the next season and hopefully, the next success. But then, this was why it was important to throw parties like this, and give herself and more importantly, her staff, the chance to celebrate their achievements. She wandered over to the tables, though she already knew the decorations were right and the seating was as she'd indicated. Running a hand over the tinsel drapery they'd put across the walls, she hummed a song and idly wandered to the entrance to the room. She was wearing a multicoloured dress in a rather sheer, pleated fabric with points on the shoulders and ruffles on the bodice; it fanned out as she walked. She'd bought it because it reminded her of butterflies, and the whimsical feeling that gave her added to her joy. Singing to herself now, she wandered into the corridor, wondering if anyone was there yet.

There wasn't anyone there, so she sauntered on to the end and looked into the grand lobby of the hotel. There was nothing remarkable, until she noticed a man in a dark red suit who crossed the lobby and went through a door somewhere towards the right. She stopped singing and stared after him, transfixed by the thought that she knew him. And she knew who she thought he was, too. But surely it couldn't be... Without thinking, she followed after him, but when she came to that side of the lobby, there were two doors and an open corridor there and she didn't know which one to take. Besides, he might have walked on to the stairs that lay further on to the right, though she didn't think he had.

She hovered around the empty corridor for a bit, trying to decide whether it was worth the risk to try one of the doors. She didn't know what was behind them, but they were shut, and the idea of making a fool of herself by wandering into one of the kitchens or getting in the way of the waiters was enough for her to refrain from finding out.

She couldn't entirely leave behind the idea that it had been him, though, so she dawdled a bit longer and then dragged her steps back to her own party. She felt strangely bereft as she re-entered the corridor, and told herself that what she should be feeling was hopeful, not bereft. What if it really was...? As she neared the entrance to the room, Alice came hurrying towards her.

"There you are!" she said, waving the glass of wine she had gotten at her. "Here's people starting to arrive and me looking for you all over and wondering where on earth you'd gone. Well, never mind. Take this and go." She pressed the glass into Polly's hands and Polly, trying to get back into the party spirit, sipped from it and re-entered the room.

\------------------

Hours later, after too many glasses of champagne and a lot of bad dancing, the party had wound down. The hotel was stuck with pub closing times, and though a bunch of them had gone on to the disco, Polly had refused. She couldn't organise this and then not have a hand in clearing up. Helping to take down some of their old promotional posters they’d used to decorate, she felt extremely pleased with herself. This had been the most wonderful idea. "I think we should throw ourselves parties more often." she said to Alice. 

"I don’t see why not. Though if you're going to be a big celebrity who’s on magazine covers all the time, you might as well let the press do it for you." Alice replied. "Or go for one of the industry awards. I'm sure you’d have a shot."

"Ugh, awards ceremonies." Polly wrinkled her nose. “Handsy businessmen and women in polyester kaftans.”

"Then organise your own awards." 

"That's an idea, actually. I’ll make a note of that." Polly looked around whether there was anything more to do, but there seemed to be nothing. "I'll go tell the reception desk people we're nearly done." She strolled away, twirling delightedly in the middle of the room, the multicoloured fabric of her dress flying around her. Going across to the lobby, she thought of the man she had seen there earlier that evening again.

Strange to say, she hadn’t really thought of him again, but then she'd been too busy, and too happy, to dwell on the past. And besides, she knew that it was likely that the sting of nostalgic pain mixed with tenderness she felt whenever she thought of him was due more to that time in her life and the role he'd played in it, than to anything inherent in him specifically. It was even possible, she thought, that she'd think him entirely unremarkable if they met again, even disregarding the fact that he might have changed out of all but superficial recognition. 

Over the years, she'd kept up an affectionate if irregular correspondence with Uncle Bob, and from him she'd learnt a few things. "I won't tell you anything about Amaz," Uncle Bob had written in his first letter to her, "for one thing because he doesn't deserve it, and for another, I don't want you to wallow. He doesn't, I can tell you." She still knew that bit by heart, which she supposed was silly, but that was the way it was. Later on, once she hadn't asked about him for a while, Bob had dropped things into his letters every now and again; "I'm annoyed with Amaz; I asked him to get me a new tape recorder, and he said he was too busy. I said I wouldn't speak to him again, and he said fine, we will not speak again. Isn't he a rascal."; "Amaz has gone off the deep end and is embroiled with some ghastly Dutch woman who he says gives him business advice. Well, it’s not the sort of advice I’d care to take from her, let me tell you."; "Amaz was arrested for getting involved in some kind of conspiracy. I went to see him in jail and told him not to make a fool of himself. He looked haughty and told me I shouldn't bother to involve myself in his problems. What an utter ass."; "Haven't seen Amaz for a while; nobody seems to know where he is. Wouldn’t be surprised if we had some bad news about that fellow soon."

After that, he'd relayed a bunch of rumours of where Amaz could be, once or twice adding a rider that if she ran into him, she should send a message to him. But she never had run into him again, despite spending all of that time in the far east, and when she'd gone back to Singapore five years later, had only seen Uncle Bob and Lorelei again. It had been nice to revisit, but in a bittersweet way. Amaz not being there had made it easy to wallow in nostalgia.

She hadn’t heard anything about him since, and over time she’d stopped expecting it. Of course, she still thought about him every now and again, when something reminded her. More so now than when she was still in Hong Kong and India; the distance made her yearn for everything she’d left behind her there.

She’d often wondered what had happened to him, and hoped it wasn’t anything bad. Or at least, nothing worse than she'd left him in. But he hadn’t wanted to be saved, and in any case, she knew that he had the ability to make it out of his rather sordid situation himself. Whether he’d ever gotten the chance, of course, was another matter. Since Uncle Bob had stopped mentioning him, she had, on the occasions when he’d entered her thoughts, both hoped and feared; now, at least, she might have an answer to her speculations.

If it had indeed been him, which she wasn’t sure about. Though he might as well be here if he wasn’t in Singapore, and if Uncle Bob hadn’t seen him for years, chances were he wasn’t in Singapore. She sighed, and got another glass of champagne. Oh well. She could always enquire at the reception desk, but somehow that seemed too big a step.

Humming, she crossed the big cool space of the lobby, and, irresistibly drawn to the idea that Amaz might be here, she looked around and loitered around the edges of the room- the receptionist looked at her oddly- but there was nothing interesting, so she gave up and had the talk with the hotel staff she'd come for. 

Turning to leave, she gave another cursory glance around the lobby, but without much hope- and froze. There he was, one of a group of rather garishly suited men saying goodbye near the big entry. Yes; it had to be him. He had the right height, the right profile. And when he turned and said something jokey to the man next to him, she saw with a pang of recognition that he had the same smile; a mixture of dazzle and crooked self-deprecation. He was more filled out, and his hair was rather longer, curling over the edge of his collar, but it was undoubtedly him. 

On tenterhooks, she waited for them to disperse enough for her to do something to get his attention; maybe even run after him if she had to. It seemed to take them forever to put on coats and joke and laugh and slap shoulders and wave to each other. Come on! she thought, almost hopping from foot to foot.

Finally, almost all of them had left and only three were scattered around the doors; she couldn’t wait any longer and charged forward. “Amaz!” she said, rather more breathlessly than she had intended. He turned with a quick jerk of his body, and stared at her. His eyes became wide and dark with shock, and the strangest look, changing from a sort of fear to something like being pleased, slowly froze on his face. His companions glanced at him, and, realising there was more going on here than they really needed to know, disappeared with some short greetings.

Polly just stood there and looked back at him, noticing with a funny little feeling that the way he’d opened his eyes, and the flick of his long curled eyelashes, gave him a coquettish air that clashed with the stunned seriousness of his expression. Unsure what to do and struck by the awkwardness of the situation, she chuckled. “As bad as that, is it?”

Amaz moved his lips without saying anything, still staring at her. Then, suddenly, he seemed to snap out of it, blinked, and smiled.

“Forgive me,” he said. “but I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Polly said. “I thought you were still in Singapore. I mean, I never knew you left. What are you doing here?” Amaz shrugged.

“Meeting associates to sell to.” He caught her eye and frowned. “I know what you are thinking, but it is not like that. I’m a gentleman now.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, I assure you.” Polly gave him a sly smile, and he looked down, clasping his hands together in embarrassment. “You must know I would not lie to you.”

“Oh, Amaz, I know that. And I know you’d never stop being your lovely self, even if you are a gentleman.” He looked around, noticing his business associates had gone, and glanced back at her, uncertain. Polly, recalled to a sense of reality, drew in a quick breath. "You know what I have been doing?" Amaz shook his head. "Having a party."

“You are having a party?” Amaz said. He didn’t look too pleased.

“Yes, for my company. You know we had such a profitable season and such good press, I thought we should celebrate.”

“Your company? What is your company?”

“I did think you might guess. Pretty Polly, you know, the shops. With clothes for women. Didn’t you see any? We have one on Oxford Street now!” Amaz shook his head and smiled in his peculiar, beautiful way, casting his eyes down for a moment. 

“I did not see. So, you are a lady tycoon.” Polly giggled. 

“Hardly. But we’re doing quite well. It is such a shame you missed it. It's over now, I've just been clearing up and we're about to leave. Where were you going?" Amaz looked at the door, through which his acquaintances had just left.

"It does not matter. In fact, the meeting had just broken up. I was going back to my hotel..." he said. He opened his mouth as if to continue, then shut it again, and rubbed the back of his head in confusion. 

"Oh good, you can take me for a walk along the river." Polly said, grabbing her chance as she saw it. "You wait here." She took his hand in hers on an impulse and squeezed it, then skipped away down the corridor. Amaz looked after her, his dark eyes rather melancholy in their expression. He slowly retreated across the lobby space, shifting his briefcase from one hand to the other, lost in thought.

Had he been a fool, all those years ago, or had he been exceptionally wise? What might have happened if she hadn't left? What if he'd gone with her? It was a question he'd mulled over fruitlessly over the years a couple of times. He'd never had any detailed news of her- at first, some throwaway statements from Bob, then, as he'd disappeared into his new life, nothing. Later on, a few rumours reached him through the grapevine, but he'd never known if they were true. It looked like they had been; he'd known she had gone on to do something with clothes, and had been fairly successful, but this odd story of shops and fancy parties was not what he'd bargained for, somehow.

Perhaps she wouldn't have done that if she'd stayed- gone on to spend her money and then get a decent business job, perhaps, and then they would have drifted apart and she would have left him behind regardless. He hadn't been in the right frame of mind to change with her, then- it had taken a lot of mistakes and a lot of time to get as far past that as he now was. He’d hated to let her leave, and he’d hated the strange restlessness that had suddenly cropped up afterwards and which had made him more dissatisfied than ever with the life he had been leading. That had led him into many evils. But then, he had thrived despite those evils. Thinking back, he had a strong bittersweet feeling, and wanted half to run away so that he wouldn’t have to dwell on it. He ran a hand through his hair and turned on his heels, thinking of his meeting with those dealers just now. In some ways, he supposed, his life hadn't changed so much- he still hustled, but (mostly) legally now, and on a bigger scale with more status. On the other hand, the world had changed, and he, always opportunistic, had changed with it. He just couldn’t see what all that really stood for, in the end. But before he could be cowardly enough to run away, he heard the clatter of heels on the floor behind him. He couldn’t deny the naive flutter of expectation that ran through him when he saw Polly, smiling as she came prancing towards him.

He realised, with a jolt of excitement, that the dress she wore was slightly see-through, and as the fabric shifted over her body, he could see glimpses of bare thigh, and of her underwear (sea green, he thought). Behind her, he saw a couple of people staring at them from the corridor. Polly saw them look, and laughed, waving at them to go.

"Poor things, they are absolutely consumed with curiosity about you but I told them not to be so nosey for once." 

"Are they your staff?" Amaz said, fascinatedly trying to get a better glance at them, but they were scurrying back into the darkness of the corridor. 

"They work for my company, yes." Amaz continued to look after them but, wisely, refrained from further questions. Following Polly’s lead, he wandered after her through the great glass doors into the street. Polly shrugged on her evening coat; an insane confection of pink satin that looked rather like a sea anemone with its tubular shape and huge, oddly-shaped collar.

“Are the clothes you sell like that?” Amaz asked, eyeing it with a difficult-to-interpret look in his eyes. Polly smiled.

“A bit. There's already Marks and Sparks for normal clothes, isn't there? What I always wanted to do is give the speccy-four-eyes working in shops all over England a go at being, or at least pretending at being, something a bit less dreary.” She threw a sly glance at Amaz. "Rather like what you did for me." He looked at her from under his lashes and she felt almost giddy, just as if she really was a girl again.

"It was a pleasure to help you." he said, laughing a little. Polly grabbed his arm excitedly and pulled him towards her.

"It was a pleasure to be helped." she said, and laughed too. "But you know, I didn't do what you told me. It was years before I went back to England. Uncle Bob gave me some excellent advice, and it helped me achieve all this." They were weaving through the dark, empty streets. The night was warm for England, but Amaz didn't feel hot despite being in a suit and a coat. He'd come prepared and taken all his thickest clothes but he found the climate of Northern Europe rather depressing and unnecessary no matter what he did. 

"Eventually, you came back." he said. "You see, I was right after all." He looked down at his feet to check for puddles; then he looked at her legs, bare in silver sandals. He thought fleetingly of stroking their soft, smooth curves, opening up that silly coat and running his hands up under her sheer dress. He glanced back up at her face, confused. It was odd; she was more attractive now than ever, but he didn't know whether, if they hadn't shared a past, and he'd seen her in that hotel lobby, he would have done more now than look at her, and speculate. Even he was surprised by just how right he had been about her, all those years ago.

"You were." she said. "What was it you said? I'd be courted by rich milords at hunt balls or something?" Amaz knew exactly what he'd said; it was that officers and gentlemen would fall in love with her and rich milords would sweep her off to the hunt ball at the Savoy hotel. But he remained silent. "All that actually happened, you know. It wasn't at hunt balls, but aside from that it was all true. As soon as we began to be successful, there were a hundred cash-strapped somebodies trying to help me. Just imagine!" She frowned. "Anyway, they're all exactly as frightful as you'd think. Bigger scoundrels than the greatest hustlers in the backstreets of Singapore." She squeezed his arm. "Now you tell me about you." Amaz stared ahead for a while, and then spoke carefully.

"It was not good after you left. I mean, at first it was. But then, wrong people started coming to Singapore. These people, they had money but it was all wrong. There were evil feelings, there were people who did not have good intentions. They were causing panic. But you can make a lot of money out of that if you know how. It was too easy. I was... carried away. It did not end well for me. Then I decided, I was going to leave. I had the money, I started to set up my own trading business, rare wine, rare liquors. Big businessmen like them. That is what I am doing now." He turned to see Polly staring up at him with intense concentration. He looked self-deprecating, even as he was unable to withstand expressing some admiration for his own daring. “I am quite successful, you know.”

“Yes, Uncle Bob said you’d been involved with some odd things, but I knew you’d do alright.” Polly said. “You’d do alright anywhere.” 

“It was not easy at first, but once you have built a reputation, it gets better.”

"Where do you live?" she said. Amaz shrugged.

"Where I need to live. But now I am at a hotel here." She squeezed his arm hard, her breast pressing softly against the back of it. 

"Amaz, you are clever." she said, but she looked sad as she said it. In a rush of feelings, she rubbed her face against his shoulder. Above her, he nodded gravely.

"Yes, I am." he said. "But so are you clever." he said. Polly felt his hand cover hers for a moment. She wanted to say something flippant, but instead found herself leaning towards him on her tiptoes, and kissing him. A flash of memories went through her mind, before they disappeared in her new desire; she reached up to touch his head, familiar through the soft texture of his curly hair, then let her hands run down his body, new with its solid, tightly curved contours. She leant against him as his arms tightened around her, pressing their bodies together. She felt his heart beat hard, his breathing quick and nervous. They separated and she leant her head against his chest for a moment. “I think you’d better come back with me.” She said. He said nothing, just swallowed, and leant his head on hers for a moment. He had a strange expression on his face; it looked rather like relief.

They wandered on, disoriented now, wavering between edges of the pavement. At the end of the street, where there was a big crossroads, there were a couple of young punks sleeping under an army blanket against a wall. They had a tin standing in front of them. Amaz threw them a glance; their androgynous faces were still round with youth but already worn and rough and lined with experience; their bedraggled hair was coloured wild shades of green and red. He looked very serious as he dug into his pocket and tossed a few coins into the tin. Then he clasped an arm tighter round Polly.  
They turned left at the crossroads, leaving the young punks behind them, and approached the bridge that crossed the Thames. Everything was quiet. Across the street, some waiters smoking outside a curry house stared at them. Amaz looked at them with interest, but he couldn’t place their ethnicities. He pulled out a cigarette, and suddenly remembered. “Look.” He said, showing Polly the case.

“Oh Amaz, you still have it. How sweet.” she said, and looked pleased. They walked on, slowly crossing the bridge. “When we get to my house you can meet Percy the parrot again.” 

“How is he? Is he homesick?”

“Oh no. He’s fine. A grumpy old thing but then he always was. Will he remember you, I wonder?”

“He will probably bite me. Parrots can become remarkably jealous.” Amaz said. Polly grinned.

“Geoff taught him to say “bugger off” so who knows. He also taught him to say “Ooo-er matron”. I don’t know which would be worse, really.” she said. She stole a glance at Amaz, who looked so beautiful, staring serenely ahead with his profile outlined in the soft light, that she could hardly believe he was really here. It was difficult to reconcile his presence with the mundane English surroundings, pretty as it all looked right now in the darkness. Polly stopped and went to the side of the bridge. She looked down at the water of the river sparkling black in the night. “I won’t half have something to tell Uncle Bob in my next letter.” she said. “You know, he’s become awfully sentimental lately. Always writing about old England and its green lush fields and all that. Maybe he’s thinking about coming back.” 

“It’s natural, perhaps.” Amaz said, coming to stand beside her and following her gaze to the cold, murky river. “This is his home, after all.” Polly chuckled.

“I’ll tell him to come for a visit and show him mum’s house in the suburb and tell him to help out at the cake shop. That’ll cure him.” Amaz nodded distractedly, images of Singapore, so far and so strange from this great distance, in his mind. The noise and crush of people, the smell and the heat, the beauty of the deep blue sea, the sound of geckos and flying foxes; it faded into the streetlights, the grey and beige of London, the distant sound of yobs singing outside a pub somewhere. And the glint of gold on Polly’s hair, the pink of her lips and the dull sheen of her satin coat, as pink. What was home, really? All the certainties he had had when he was younger had been eroded by time and experience. Worldly as he’d been, he had to admit he hadn’t known everything. “Anyway, what is home, really?” Polly said. Amaz looked at her, amazed. He smiled in gratitude, the glitter of London’s lights no less bright than that of his eyes and his teeth. He put up a hand to Polly’s face, stroked the side of her cheek once. 

“That is very true.” He said. “But you never know. He might find something he likes here. He might be happy to return.” He cupped her chin and leant in to kiss her. It felt sweet and warm and close. When he pulled away, he put his arm around her again and squeezed Polly’s waist a little. She smiled at him, eyes gleaming.

“It could happen.” She said. Amaz lowered his eyes, hid the expression on his face. He crept still closer to her, their sides pressed together. 

“It could.” He said softly. They turned and walked on together like that, so close together that they didn’t look like two separate people from a distance. They followed the way down the empty streets towards her house, in the dark of the beginning night.


End file.
